Waiting

This true account was written January 5th for a writing prompt suggestion. Today, I am sharing the rest of the story: for me, it is the best part of the story! 

Waiting

My master bedroom became my isolation home on New Year’s Day. Although sick, I couldn’t sleep: rest would not come. There is no one to hold my hand, as I wait, as a fret, as I lay on my fever-bed and wonder my fate.

Wait with me? Watch with me? I cry into my pillow. The night passes until the morning light eases my darkness.  

Cute fish dishes

The door of my world opens. My masked-husband slips in a meal, on a tray with pretty bowls and fresh fruit: a mirror of the love and attention I would have offered. If I could. If I were well.

But I’m not. My fate has been delivered to me, the news is positive. Positive for COVID that is.

My corner picnic

As I eat in the corner of my room, memories of my dad press in. Once in a one room nursing home with too much stuff, and not enough space feels all too familiar. He too wasn’t able to go anywhere. He too had to wait for someone to feed him. Often I did.My mind turns back to my illness. I believe I will live, but my friend did not. COVID is Russian roulette in the form of an ugly bug. 

How long will it be before I feel the warmth of his hand, the freshness of the outside air, and the hope of a tomorrow? Will my health return?

For now I wait.

The rest of the story.

I am doing well, overall. My symptoms remain mild and I am grateful!

When I wrote those questions, “Wait with me? Watch with me?” I was specifically thinking about Jesus in the garden when He asked His disciples to wait with Him—instead of waiting, they fell asleep. Multiple times. And, that would have been me. Luke 22:45 said the disciples were exhausted from sorrow. I do not judge them because I never walked in their shoes.

That night, as I lay on my pillow, wondering if my sickness was from COVID, my husband was on the couch. I felt so alone. I asked Jesus to wait with me: something He knows about…waiting. I cried to think that He, overcome with grief, wanted and needed companionship. I grieved with Him and for Him in a way I hadn’t known before that night. That night, I entered the sweet fellowship of suffering with my Lord. We waited and I surrendered outcomes. I cried to think of the load He alone carried that night. I grieved His loneliness and His sorrow.

Unfortunately I know many who have had COVID and one sweet woman from my church, died just ten days before I wrote the post.. Before I could talk with her again, she was gone. That is why I said that COVID is Russian roulette in the form of an ugly bug. Some, like me, have had mild cases. Some die. BUT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR OUTCOME WILL BE WHEN YOU GET THE BUG. UGH! Forgive me for shouting, but that was what was in my head while I waited to hear the test results (and day by day if my mild symptoms would turn deadly.) Day two, the fever messed with my heart and it was beating out of rhythm for a day. That was scary! The power that the virus has to mess with what you need for life is frightening!

On that night long precious night, I especially needed Jesus to be with me. He felt especially close because, in my human littleness and frailty, I reached for His hand and experienced a little more of His heart. I could imagine His joy in being with me and His delight that I entered in to His suffering for a little while. And in the waiting, I found joy!

As for my sweet husband, on the couch he remains (to date, 10.09.21). We pray he doesn’t get COVID too. 

The waiting continues…